Cold, Bitter End
by Ardennes
Summary: A "what if" story about a woman struggling to survive in a war where she is assumed to be a man. For mature audiences only. Coarse language, war depictions, and minor sexual themes.
1. Wait

**Bitter, Cold End**

Ardennes

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I admit that I'm twisting Floyd Talbert's words to Dick Winters, but I think it makes for an excellent story. Hope you agree. Also, I do not know the exact date when Talbert wrote these words to Winters, all I know is that he wrote them before 1982, when Talbert made his first appearance at an Easy Company Reunion.

Characters are real except for Joan and James—they are my creations, no stealing, please! All other characters are real men, based off of the HBO TV Series, Band of Brothers. I depicted them to the best of my ability and want all to know that I deeply admire those who served in WWII and, in fact, study the subject. My intention with this story is to ask "What if?" not to insult anyone.

Without further ado… here it is.

Chapter One – Wait

_I have never discussed these things with anyone on this earth. The things we had are damn near sacred to me…_ Talbert wrote to his former commander, Dick Winters, unsure what to write next. The reason for writing the letter in the first place was because he had recently decided to face his heartbreak and begin to heal by going to the Easy Company Reunion. The year was 1981. It had been nearly 40 years. "Jesus, has it been that long?" Talbert thought aloud.

He thought he should bring up Corporal Lee to Winters. Talbert knew he would remember—Winters remembered everyone. But he did not know where to start. He pulled his fingers through his dark hair and thought. He thought about the first time he met Lee, but his memories of that were so crowded with Guarnere, Toye, Lipton, Luz, Liebgott, Malarkey and so many other guys. They were all larger-than-life characters, and somehow Lee fit in flawlessly.

How do you explain that, when Lee was so dramatically different? In nearly every way Lee was different. But there was one thing about Lee that clicked with every other man in the company. Lee's heart was in this for the same reasons every other man in the company was. For the man next to you, for being strong enough to carry your brother, for standing alone together.

"Lee was the best soldier I had the privilege to fight beside." Talbert almost put his pen to the paper. He felt that was not the right thing to write. Winters knew how Talbert felt about Lee. They shared a foxhole, obviously Talbert entrusted Lee with his life.

Talbert thought about the first time he saw Lee scared. Truly scared. Scared white and small. Lee was one of the strongest people Talbert knew. Scared, with nothing to do but drown in her own thoughts, Lee sat tall and still. Lee faced fear like no one Talbert had ever seen.

Talbert's pen hovered over the paper. He should have known from the start about Lee. There was a softness in her face and eyes. Talbert wished every day that he'd noticed sooner, that he'd spent just one more day—one more minute—with Joan Eva Lee instead of James Edward Lee.

--

Lee could barely hear the thoughts in her head over the roar of the C-47. The engine and propellers were close by, she could hear a constant and deafening _whrr_ that rattled through the inside of the plane. The engine rumbled steadily, continuously. Maybe she should have felt reassured by the noise, but it crawled inside her ears and pushed against her brain. Lee had a headache. And a stomachache.

Come to think of it, she was suffering from shoulder aches, too. The gear she was wearing was crushing her. She was sure she wouldn't be able to find the strength to stand up and step out of the plane. And if she did, no parachute would be large enough to hold her dead weight. Just thinking about all of her gear made her body scrunch down as if with every item she thought of, she lost a millimeter of height.

Main and reserve parachutes, gas mask and anti-gas supplies, helmet, helmet liner, helmet netting, three "K" and "D" rations with heat tablets and water purification tablets, raincoat, blanket, shaving kit (to keep up with the illusion), mess kit, entrenching tool, .30 cal. 10-pocket cartridge belt, first aid kit, two bandoleers, ammunition, four blocks of TNT, trench knife, bayonet, a cricket, and an M-1 rifle. And under all of that equipment was the usual, burdensome clothing: Crew-neck t-shirt, wool shirt, jump jacket, jump pants and belt, wool socks and jump boots.

She thought momentarily about the gauze that wrapped tightly around her chest and crushed her breasts flat. Lee was used to the discomfort, heat, and itches the gauze created. That was one thing no other man had to carry.

Lee suddenly felt very hot, cramped, and pained. The weight pressed so heavily on her shoulders that it felt like she was clenching her muscles. And it was constant. She was so overcome with sound and weight and darkness that she couldn't move.

The men sharing the bench were barely moving. Burning, red dots lit up the inside of the C-47. Smoking had become the only comfort to some of the men on the plane. One man balanced himself so that he could lean forward to get a light from a man on the bench opposite to him. "Have a light?" He yelled.

Without comment, the man opposite to him reached in his pocket, pulled out his lighter, and held up a flame. A puff of silver smoke rose from the two.

Another man, at the end of the bench, was praying with his head bowed. His lips were moving and his hands adjusted and readjusted on his rosary that swayed irregularly with the trembling, bellowing plane. Lee wished there was something similar that could take up her own time.

Instead, all Lee had were her thoughts. The first thought that raced into her head was that this was the most terrifying thing she'd ever done. Volunteering for the paratroopers was second only to battle. It was tricky to pose as a man, but being in a camp during basic training made the task doable. Now she would be in battle or a foxhole with no hope for privacy. She would slip. She felt it in her chest. The dread and panic settled into the marrow of her bones, so deep that she felt it would never get out.

The only thing that worked in her favor was that Lee was not the most feminine woman to have walked the earth. Back home, she wore her muddy brown hair long, but usually braided or otherwise restrained. She was not an overly voluptuous woman by any means, in fact she had a masculine appearance. Her shoulders were broad, her breasts were small, her hips were slim, her arms were lean, her legs were strong, her features were not delicate, her lashes were not long, her fingernails were not clean and trim, her stature was not small, her voice was not sweet, her manner was not gentle. Even when she did have long hair and skirts, Lee was never considered gorgeous.

A boy she knew in high school, told her that she had "unconventional beauty." Even though Lee didn't know what "unconventional beauty" was, she feared others would see, would notice, or would question it. Did she have a woman's eyes? Would someone notice she was a woman if they looked into her eyes? And what about her touch? Did she have a soft touch or soft hands? What about her walk? Did she walk gracefully? Lee desperately hoped her heavy boots made her feet fall hard and clumsily like every other soldier.

If Lee were to be caught or suspected, she could be killed. Or worse, she would be court marshaled, thrown out of the paratroopers, and disgraced. Lee considered this, just as the terror of her predicament settled more securely into her bones. In the heat of battle, what if something happened? She was wounded and they had to inspect her, take off her shirt. And they'd find gauze. They would be suspicious, take the gauze off, _discover_ who she really was. She would be dishonored; her wings would be ripped from her, her pants un-tucked from her boots.

In a moment of desperation, Lee hoped that she would be blown to bits in order to avoid such embarrassment, such shame. She could think of no worse fate.

Lee forced her mind off of the danger. It was selfish of her to think her fear was greater than anyone else's. Sure, she had her _identity_ to protect, but she had no concern for her life, like the men around her. She had nothing to lose. Nothing but Jimmy.

Her teeth ground together. Her jaw began to hurt and ache. _How can I be this selfish?_ She demanded of herself silently, angrily. Jimmy—her last remaining relative, her beloved brother, her opposite twin—would have nothing but his studies if she died. He wrote to her almost every day, mailing a week's worth of letters as often as he could. Lee saved every note, every silly doodle, every gum wrapper—and yes, Jimmy did send her little treats. He also sent her a picture of herself before their father died—he said it was to remind her of who she would always be to him. His communication meant everything to her, it was almost as important as sleep and safety was to her now. He reminded her of who she was and who she will always be. Joan Eva Lee. Joanie, as he called her.

The terror eased out of her muscles. Her eyes clung to a spot on the floor between her boots and the boots of the man across from her. "Stay strong, be brave," Lee mouthed the words of encouragement Jimmy had written to her. The words soothed her, more so because they were her brother's words than anything. Truth be told, these were the two things Lee had to remember most, above all else, while she was stuck in an impossible situation.

"Stay strong, be brave," Lee mouthed this twice, three, four times. Her eyes were shut, meditation took over.

The man on her left nudged her roughly. Lee looked towards him and searched for a face behind a heavy, metal helmet and dark paint. She knew it was Tab for two reasons. One, she entered the plane behind him. Two, she knew his outline, his shadow, his manner of walking, how hard he nudges, and his care in noticing his neighbor.

"Scared?" Tab yelled over the roar of the plane. He had leaned close to her to make it easier to hear, but it was still difficult. Lee read his lips in the dim plane better than she heard him.

"No." Lee yelled back. It was a lie. But Lee was used to lying. Her sitting next to him was a lie. She was scared out of her wits and her mind was absolutely crowded with thoughts and fears—so many that it was impossible to keep shoving them out of her head.

Tab nodded, shrugged his shoulders. "You keep saying things." He yelled again.

Lee did nothing. He was referring to her mouthing the words of encouragement that her brother wrote to her. The only thing that was putting her at ease at the moment. She yelled, "Just something my sister wrote." Another lie. She didn't have a sister. But in principle, it was true. Her "sister" was Jimmy. They made the switch but only one of them had to live it. Since James Edward Lee was supposed to be on this plane, that meant Joan Eva Lee was at home, writing Jimmy letters.

"Yeah?" Tab was nervous. His hands were trapped between his knees and even though the C-47 was _whrr_ing and shifting and humming and rattling, Tab was still trying to talk. "What she say?" He yelled into the darkness, into the area between Lee's helmet, which was drooping to her eyebrows, and her parachutes, bandoleers, and jump jacket. He would have been able to see the tension, the fear in Lee's face, even though it was coated with dark green and black paint.

"Stay strong," Lee yelled back, "be brave."

"I'll jump to that." Tab leaned away again, stared at the other side of the plane above the heads of the men that sat across from them.

Lee found her spot on the floor and stared at it as if a hole would appear that would take her back to 1942, before she joined the paratroopers.

--

An explosion outside of the body of the plane shook her to the core. It was a deafening blast that sounded like splitting metal, an angry fire, and then a disturbing stop to an engine. A neighbor C-47 had been hit and was going down. Every man sitting in the plane knew it. No one said a word, but they all looked up. Their eyes were stricken with fear, doubt. Would they make it out of the plane? To the ground?

The red light turned on, the doors slid open with the sounds of oiled metal on metal.

The jumpmaster, Winters, stood, shouted "Stand up!" and motioned with his hands for anyone who couldn't hear his voice over the _whr_ of the plane. Every man stood up without a moment's hesitation. "Hook up!" He commanded next, making another motion. As if controlled by some outside force, they hooked their parachutes to the cord.

Winters began the countdown. It was time to jump.

Moments passed before Tab patted the side of her right shoulder, where the least amount of gear was touching to be sure she'd feel it. "Fourteen okay!" She shouted and patted the arm of the man in front of her. It was automatic. As if she'd been doing this every day of her life, as natural as scratching when you have an itch.

The red light switched to green. "Go!" Winters yelled and stepped into the night. Lee saw lights streaking through the air and then catch fire amongst gray clouds.

Somehow, Lee heard the voice of her brother when they were children, "Joanie! What are you doing up there? You could fall!" He had scolded her this way one morning at the park. Jimmy had always been afraid of heights, but not Joanie. She'd climbed a tree, following a butterfly that had flown away from her and floated into the leaves. Lee remembered that she laughed and said to him, "I'm not afraid of nothin'!"

She wished she felt the same now.

She wished she could rewind to that day again. She had always been brave because her brother was always there to catch her. But Jimmy wasn't here. He was thousands of miles away. A sea separated them.

It was her turn. Without hesitation, outside of her childhood memory, Lee stepped into a sky filled with fire, bullets, parachutes, clouds of smoke, explosions, turbulent winds caused by planes, and blackness in between.


	2. Jump

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First off, thank you all for your reviews! Nothing is more satisfying than when your writing is enjoyed by your readers. Rest assured, I have every intention of finishing this story of mine, but only as time permits. But since I have some followers, I'll do my best to work quickly—without diminishing the quality of my writing, of course! Just so you all know, I try to stay at least two chapters ahead of what I have downloaded here. So, if I haven't put up anything knew in a while, even if I don't have much time to write, I can still give you something new.

Anyway, like I said last time, I stayed as close to the truth as possible. Luckily for me, the truth (when twisted) plays into my story flawlessly. Though, to keep with accuracy, I feel it's my duty to tell you this:

Floyd "Tab" Talbert did suffer from alcoholism, but he was getting his life back together and pretty much had his life in order before he died in 1982. I am portraying him here as a drifter, as many men from Easy Company assumed—but he wasn't, really. He had a job and a family and accomplished whatever he put his mind to.

Again, enjoy!

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Chapter Two – Jump

Talbert tapped his pen cap on the page. It was covered, front and back, with stories, memories, people, and places. But he could not move forward. He didn't know what to say next, how to explain his love and devotion to a man that was not a man. Or perhaps she was better than a man. She had to have had more courage, more bravery, more brotherhood in her than any man that surrounded her. Not only because she was a female but because she was a good man. The best man.

The pen slipped from his fingers for the second time and he rested his face in his hands. The same tears that sought him out every cold night, in every thick forest, and with every fleeting memory found him again. Talbert felt familiar tears on his cheeks. He dragged the back of his hand under his eyes and reached for the glass to his right. It was empty. Again.

He stumbled from the table in his kitchen to the counter. It was a small kitchen, but it was a good size, he thought. Good for him, anyway. A half empty bottle of spiced rum sat waiting for him to return, as he always did. Talbert poured himself a glass and returned to the table. He sat down, took a swig, and took up the pen again.

"I wish I could go back and try one more time," Talbert placed his pen on the paper to continue, but couldn't find the strength. The pen was frozen and he retreated back to his liquor. He reread what he had just written._ The things we had are damn near sacred to me._

He leaned back in his chair, stared at the words as if they'd talk to him. What would he do if he could go back in time? There was nothing he could have done for Lee and knowing sooner or telling others would have destroyed her, probably worse than what did happen.

"I know there was nothing I could have done differently, but I think I made some mistakes. We all did." Talbert couldn't write that, either. War was terrible and whatever you want to change would have changed the life and the futures of everyone.

The night of their first _real_ jump, Talbert couldn't account for anyone but himself. His drop had been several kilometers from the drop zone, like everyone else. Lee had dropped close to Guarnere and hooked up with Lipton and Winters an hour or so after she got her bearings. Talbert wished he could have been with her, not that she had needed him.

It was Talbert that needed Lee.

--

The moment Lee's feet left the floor of the plane, her parachute was pulled free and she was violently stopped from falling. The shock ripped her ankle bag from her foot instantly. She could see thirty, maybe forty green parachutes drifting in the black night. She couldn't guess the number of parachutes behind her. Bullets pierced through the night, most lit up like sparks from a fire. Planes had sparks bouncing off of them and some had fires crawling out of their propellers, engines, and insides.

Lee guessed that the plane burning in multiple pieces on the ground about two hundred yards away from her was the one that had been shot next to hers. A fleeting thought passed through her head; _did those men get out before the plane went down?_

She followed the bright streaks of bullets in the air to figure out if she was in danger. Lee should have been watching the ground, which was quickly approaching, for trees. Her eyes were torn off of a machine gun that was firing to the left of her decent, just in time to see the dark, fluffy shape of a tree.

A short, high-pitched scream sneaked past everything that told her to be a man. She didn't have time to regret not yelling out, as a man might, instead of squealing. The moment she saw the tree, she was landing in its branches. Twigs and limbs snapped under her sudden weight. Leaves and splinters flung into the air and cut into her face and snagged on her parachute and clothing. As she fell farther from the tree, she yelled out. Lee desperately grabbed at branches, but nothing helped or slowed her down until she felt her entire body free falling in air and then being yanked upwards, stopped suddenly.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. Lee had been so badly beaten by the tree that she didn't really know what was happening right away. She let her head sag for just a moment, feeling strangely sleepy after such a traumatic fall.

She blinked slowly and glanced around. A machine gun was firing about ten bullets at various intervals maybe fifty to one hundred meters away to her right. Lee also noticed that she was suspended about three feet from the ground. The tree had been tall, her parachute must have caught on a branch or limb at the top and continued to snag along the way because it wouldn't budge. The lines attaching to the parachute were hopelessly tangled and she was spinning slowly as the lines attempted to untangle themselves.

Was this the end? Would the Germans notice her fall and slaughter her like a pig? Lee refused. She would not be found out here. Maybe tomorrow. But she had to prove herself now. Lee struggled against the cords that strung her up on the tree and patted her torso for a tool—any tool—that would get her out of this. She found a cricket in her right breast pocket, her ammo belt, and bandoleers. Whatever hadn't fallen out of her backpack, she couldn't get to.

She remembered her trench knife in one of her pants pockets. Her shoulders were being pulled up by the weight of the rest of her body on her backpack and parachute pack, which would make her attempt at grabbing the knife almost impossible. But there was never any hurt in trying. And Lee didn't have another option. Lee tried twisting her body in one direction while thrusting her hand down to her nearest hip. She couldn't reach her thigh. Lee tried again and again without success.

Something snapped and Lee stopped moving. She stared into the night, desperate to see who was approaching. Terrified that her life would end as an ornament on some damned tree in the middle of Normandy.

"Flash!" A whisper tore through the night.

Lee felt relieved and frantic at the same time. Relieved because these men would help her. Frantic because she was in a tree and couldn't get down. "Thunder!" She whispered back harshly.

A few footsteps crept quietly toward her. As they approached, Lee could make out Guarnere and Malarkey crouching low. They both had guns. Guarnere had an M-2 carbine and Malarkey had the normal M-1 rifle.

"Christ!" Guarnere stood slowly and looked up at Lee, dangling. "The fuck happen to you?"

Lee narrowed her eyes at him. "Just hanging around," She said sarcastically. Malarkey inhaled a laugh and chuckled to himself. "What the fuck's it look like?"

"'Aight, 'aight." Guarnere walked closer to her with one hand in the air in surrender. "Ask a question…geeze…" He took a knife from his belt and reached up to Lee's head. He put the knife against some of the cords and then cut her free, pulling the blade away from her head. He did both sides of the parachute and Lee fell from the tree like a rock.

"What happened?" Malarkey asked as he helped Lee up.

"Landed in a tree, what's it look like?" Lee checked what she had on her. The cricket, bandoleers, first aid kit, full ammo belt, trench knife in her cargo pocket, some rations in her backpack, along with a rain jacket, some TNT, supply kits, sewing kit, and more. The backpack must not have come open. Lee was relieved to find her letters from Jimmy and the picture of herself tucked away at the bottom of the pack. Lee slung the backpack over her shoulders. "Got all this ammo, no goddamned gun."

"Ammo, huh?" Malarkey looked at her closely, noticed her belt. "I can take that off your hands."

"He ain't got no ammo. Lost it in his ankle bag." Guarnere said as he put his knife away.

"Take it," Lee unbuckled her belt and bandoleers and handed them over,

Guarnere looked at what she gave Malarkey and a surprised look crossed his painted, tough face. "You got 'nough ammo for the rest of Easy."

"Must be why he feel wrong." Malarkey chuckled and put on the belt and bandoleers.

"My rifle must have fallen somewhere nearby." Lee remarked quietly as she glanced around the tree from where she was standing.

Guarnere checked his weapon casually and shrugged his shoulders, "Prob'ly. We ain't wastin' time looking for it 'cause there's a German anti-aircraft about a hundred feet from here and we got an objective to find. And we don't have a map. You stay by us, Lee. We run into trouble, you just stay low."

"You should have a map, _Sergeant_." Lee commented.

"Yeah. And those ankle bags are shit."

"Amen." Malarkey jumped in.

"We walk 'til we recognized some landmarks. Look for roads, signs, rivers. The like." Guarnere said and turned in the direction he wanted to go, stepping through the forest as quietly as he could.

No turning back now, Lee thought coolly. Whatever happened, be it good, bad, life ending, or life destroying, Lee would have to take it. She asked for this. She would deal with the consequences.

"Stay strong, be brave." Lee mouthed to herself.


	3. Tracks

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Sidebar:

I would like to take this chance before the beginning of the third chapter to explain myself a little. As every writer and reader should know, an author may choose to skip or fail to mention certain things in order to further the plot. I find it necessary to skip a lot of what you see in Part 2 of Band of Brothers' "Day of Days."

As you should all know, "Day of Days" includes the drop, the small skirmish on the train tracks and then the battle that occurred at the end. I hope my readers won't be upset to learn that I'm skipping the battle. Rest assured, the battle occurs as it happens in the movie, however, I found it unnecessary to the development of Joan to include the battle. It will be commented on, explained a little…however, I will not be devoting a chapter to it.

I sometimes find when I read things—like what I'm writing, for example—that the plot moves too slowly. And since I, as the writer, feel that the interaction between Lee and Tab has barely been mentioned, at this point, that it is about time! Perhaps in later revisions I will decide to add an in depth account of Lee's experience in that first battle. As of now, I'm choosing to skip it.

Please forgive me!

To my readers:

Thanks for the comments, yet again. I love getting them! Don't be shy to ask questions and make comments—I would be more than happy to speak with any one of you! Also, I think you'll enjoy this chapter because it finally answers a lot of "Joan" and "James" questions. Maybe not the one's that you're dying to have answered, but it might satisfy your curiosity…for now!

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Chapter Three—Track

Although he had not been there, Talbert felt he could recall Lee's experience after her first jump as if he'd done it himself. At first, Lee told Tab her experience that day because they were close, shared a foxhole, and agreed that canned peaches were the best form of dessert the army served. They sat down next to a tree, Lee still shaken from her first _real_ battle. Talbert remembered being startled when he noticed a worried tilt at the corners of her eyes and a quiver in her soul that he noticed only when he stared carefully at her honey-brown eyes. The strength he found in her lower lip, which neither quivered nor was too firm against her teeth, surprised him. Her shoulders were back, proud, but her hands sagged between her knees where she sat and moved slowly as if to remind her that they were there…barely.

Talbert shook the image from his head, pressed his palms to his eyes. "Why couldn't I see?" Talbert said firmly to himself, demanding quietly for an answer. He would have given almost anything to have known who Lee really was, to have had the ability to hold her in his arms, kiss her forehead, brush back her mop-top hair…

Resolutely, he sat himself in his seat. Talbert gulped the last bit of rum, picked up his pen. _The things we had are damn near sacred to me._ He read the words once more. It seemed to him that these words spoke volumes for how he felt. Although in the sentence he referred to Easy in its entirety, he felt these words equally true for Joan. No, these words were almost wholly about Joan and Joan alone.

--

"Get down!" Guarnere relayed the command from Winters to Lee and others that were behind him. Although the message was unnecessary, given that Malarkey, Lee, and some other guys that had met up in the forest were already on the ground with guns to their shoulders. Lee, however, did not have a gun. She hung back and stayed low, listening.

Somehow, Lee didn't hear the sounds of the forests—crickets, wind brushing trees, birds, scurrying critters, fallen branches and nuts—instead she heard boots marching on a dirt road that train tracks ran on, a horses hooves, and a wagon. She thought the wagon was out of place. Was this a local? If so, what were they hiding from?

Lee didn't question verbally or further. She kept her head low and her body still.

Guarnere was in front of her and off to the side, pressed against a tree. She kept her eyes on him, remembering the letter he received before setting off for Normandy. The letter informed him that his brother was killed in action somewhere in Italy. Lee figured that she, more than anyone else, was sensitive to this if for no other reason than because she had a woman's innate empathy and concern for others. She could only guess as to the pain Guarnere felt. She could only imagine the pain she'd feel if _her _brother was killed in action. Or, rather, how James would feel if _she_ was killed in action. Since she knew Guarnere's character, she chose to watch him just a tad more closely.

Winters told the small group to hold their positions, wait for his command. Lee shifted as much as she dared to see the road and watch the German troops approach. There appeared to be about ten walking, one driving, and a couple more inside of the wagon.

The troops were in front of them, Guarnere shifted uneasily, impatiently. Lee's gaze was distracted from the wagon only long enough to see Guarnere curse out of the corner of her eye. She was going to tell him to be quiet, to hold his position, but she didn't. He was a Sergeant and should know better, Lee was only a Corporal—what could she say that he didn't already know?

The forest and men had been still and unmoving. A certain calm rested upon them all for a few moments. The Germans were unaware of being watched, Easy and some lost others were pleased with going unnoticed. Both groups would pass harmlessly. Lee's first fight would be delayed still…

Irritated, Guarnere stood abruptly, gun pressed determinedly to his shoulder and released a series of bullets that struck three Germans that formed the upper right corner of the group. They fell.

Guarnere's face was pressed into a tight and angry snarl that startled Lee more than his sudden actions. Never mind they went against orders and put every man to his sides in danger. The rest open fired just as the German's turned their guns on the bushes and trees that hid the small group of Americans. Lee stayed put and kept her head low.

If it weren't for the soldiers staying low in the forest and firing on the small band of Germans, Guarnere would have been killed. He had stepped out of cover, gun still cradled in his arms. His face was pressed tightly towards his nose, breathing hard and ragged. Lee stared at him with her mouth agape. _What is he doing?_

Anger, grief, and frustration poured out of his weapon. Even as a soldier stood with his hands above his head, head shrugged low as if fearful of the lead raining towards him. He screamed inaudible pleas of surrender. Guarnere cut him down in an instant, uncaring. Another soldier ran the other direction—terrified, confused, without command. Guarnere shot him in the back several times, watched him collapse in a heap.

Unlike the rest, Guarnere continued to fire with no true direction and seemed to spray the area as if to snuff out any last breath.

"That is enough, Guarnere!" Winters yelled loudly as he pulled Guarnere away from the fallen man. The calm in Guarnere's hot weapon was welcome. Only a horse's painful whinny's and flailing hooves could be heard besides the shuffling feet of stunned soldiers. They stared at each other for a long time, Winters, who was slightly taller than Guarnere, had the advantage—height and rank wise. Still staring him down, stern and collected, Winters called to his men, "Everyone okay?"

Every man replied in the affirmative. Winters' eyes had not moved from Guarnere, "When I say wait for my command, you _wait _for my command, Sergeant." Winters spoke firmly, his authority unquestioned.

Guarnere, always a good soldier, softened his stance just enough so as not to appear threatening or defiant to his commander. "Yes, sir." He said quietly.

The silence was cut off with one echoing _boom_ from a soldier's handgun. The horse went quiet. So did the soldier's shuffling feet—for a moment.

A soldier Lee didn't recognize, who identified himself as Hall of Able Company handed her his M-1. "Don't you need this?" She asked him before taking hold of the rifle.

"Why have a shitty M-1 when I got this?" He held up a Yugo M-98, a German rifle.

Lee shrugged. He had an excellent point, but she didn't pay him the compliment. She had no reason to.

Hall walked past her, mutually not finding the conversation needed to be carried on further. He handed a second M-98 to Winters, "Here you go, Lieutenant. Kraut weapon." He said as Winters took the weapon, checked its ammunition, and proceeded forward, leaving Guarnere to grumble to himself as he, too, moved on, "Eh, Quaker."

Lee went to find Malarkey, who had all of her ammunition, in order to get her belt back.

"What's that guys problem?" She heard Hall ask Malarkey. Lee didn't know this man personally. Who was off course here? Easy or Able Company? Lee was so turned around that she didn't bother to straighten herself out. Winters knew where they were and that was good enough for her.

"Gonorrhea." Malarkey said as-a-matter-of-factly.

"Really?" The man was slightly put off by this information.

"His name, dummy. Gurnere. Gonorrhea. Get it?" Malarkey shook his head, already exasperated with this new man.

"So besides having a shitty name what's his problem?" Hall pressed.

Guarnere looked up at him, threatening with not so much as a snarl, "None of your fuckin' business, Cowboy."

"Alright, let's move out." Winters commanded loudly enough so everyone would hear, but soft enough so it wouldn't carry past the immediate trees.

Lee caught Malarkey as he followed Winters and the rest of the group down the small road. "How'd you get that?" Malarkey asked her, obviously concerned she had gotten the M-1 off of a fallen American soldier.

"Hall of Able gave it to me." Lee shrugged as if the information were irrelevant. It was. "Hand over a bandoleer or my amo belt or something."

Malarkey didn't question, just slipped the belt off of the buckle and handed it over. Lee lagged behind to get the belt around her waist, and then caught up to walk beside Malarkey.

--

It was the afternoon. In some shocking turn of events, Lee had survived D-Day with little more than landing bruises, aches, and cuts. If it hadn't been for that damned tree, Lee suspected she would have been as mark-free as Guarnere or Lipton. Both had managed to escape true injury.

Lee hadn't noticed before, most likely because there were bigger concerns at hand, that she had a large bruise on her forearm that was turning purple, green, and a little yellow. It made making a fist painful, squeezing the trigger difficult, and lifting her gear with her right arm nearly impossible. She also had sizable cuts on her face, the blood from which had caked in her face paint, eyebrows, and collected dirt. She had a difficult time scrubbing her cuts clean without ripping them open again. By now, though, they had scabbed over—one jagged cut over her left eye and a gash starting on her right cheek and ending just under her lip. _Fucking tree_.

The rest of her squad, platoon, and unit (or what was collected of it) sat by the fountain that marked the middle of the town. Lee sat, by choice, alone and under the shade of a tree. She didn't know the kind, but she'd been staring up at the leaves—big and tear-shaped—and watching the sunlight trickle down. The sun that made it to her eyes made her wince, but somehow the streaks and lines of rays warmed her just enough.

On her lap she was holding the picture James gave her of herself. She stared down at a familiar smile. It was taken in 1940, just a year before her father's death and two years before she became Private First Class James Edward Lee. Somehow, her father had talked her into not braiding her hair for her senior picture. Instead, she'd brushed the curls enough to let them explode around her face and settle on her broad shoulders. As was her personality, her hair was unruly. Every time she saw this picture, she was reminded of why she braided her hair. In an attempt to tame the curls, she tied a red ribbon in her hair, the bow of which had slid to just above her ear. The ribbon was meant to match her red skirt, which fell below the knee. Her shirt was white with red trim on the collar and had red buttons. There was a menacing twinkle in her olive eyes, a stifled laugh behind white teeth.

Lee's lips turned up ever so slightly. Right before this picture was taken, she had been watching Billy O'Neal try to rope climb. Billy ran track and, obviously, did not have strong arms—which surprised her because Lee had always pegged him for a strong man. She later found out that he had failed the rope climbing exam in his gym class and stayed after it was over to continue trying. Lee had watched him from the gym entrance and was overheard giggling at him. Billy glared at her and snapped, "If you think it's so easy, let's see you do it Miss. Joan!"

Growing up with Jimmy and being raised by her father, Lee could run, jump, throw, and climb as well as any boy. Being challenged by Billy O'Neal did not scare her. She didn't hesitate, walked right up to the rope. "Just don't look up my skirt, okay?" She smiled at him dangerously.

Billy O'Neal's upset frown quickly turned to an embarrassed snarl as she zipped up the rope, rang the bell, and came back down. Lee had picked up her books, brushed some of that mud-brown hair from her face and smiled, saying "Don't want to be late for my picture."

Lee's thoughts paused, considering how that confident tomboy, who wore red skirts and tied her hair in ribbons, had become a soldier. A paratrooper.

A commotion erupted at the fountain, Lee glanced over to see a few members of Easy shaking hands, slapping backs, and shouting greetings at one another. She wondered who had arrived, but didn't have the mental strength to stand and find out. Just as well, though. She had to save her strength for those moments where she'd need them. And those moments would come. And she'd need every ounce, every pinch of strength.

After a moment, Lee slipped the picture of herself into her breast pocket and dug out a pad of paper and a pen from her pack. The paper was crinkled and a little dirty—though she wasn't sure how that happened, she suspected blame could be placed on a certain tree that broke her landing about 8 kilometers from her objective. She didn't have to think about what she would write because the letter was to her brother and he was the only person she didn't have to lie to. He was the only person who knew her as Joanie—and that made him her one, true ally.

_Dear Jimmy—_

_I survived day one. Last night I witnessed my first battle and early this morning I participated in my first operation. I'm not sure if I feel different or not. It hasn't set in yet. But I know that I feel more certain than ever that I am completely alone. Other than you. Soon I won't have anyone to talk to. Soon I won't be able to hide it anymore._

_I'm scared, James. Always scared. I haven't even spent a full day here and I already feel the pressure. This is so much bigger than me and somehow that's all I can consider. Am I selfish? _

_I've realized that the only way I can really survive is to die. And what if I die? Will it hurt? Will I know the moment I die? _

_Please don't be upset with me, Jimmy. I don't mean to upset you. But who else can I tell my fears to?_

"Hey," a voice ripped Lee out of her one safe place: she as Joanie and writing to Jimmy. Almost instinctively, she pulled the pad of paper close to her chest so the person speaking to her couldn't see what she was writing.

She looked up at the man who'd greeted her just as he was putting up his hands defensively and chuckled, "Whoa there. Little jumpy after this mornin'?"

Lee attempted a half smile at Floyd Talbert, one of her closest friends. They'd trained together and typically teamed up when they did dry runs of trench digging. She was glad he'd made it out of the plane. Since she'd found everyone from the plane she was in besides Tab and a few others, she had assumed the worse and not thought about it. She wanted to ask how he'd gotten so far from them, but knew the answer. It was a shitty drop, a terrifying place to land, and nowhere near where they needed to be. Best bet, Tab did what Hall did. He found a unit—any unit—and stuck to them like glue. Thank God he found his way back to Easy.

"You can say that." Lee righted herself, put her pad of paper and pen back in her pack. "Sure glad to see you."

"Yeah," Tab dropped his pack on the group beside him and then flopped down in front of her, using his pack as a cushion to lean on. "Not bad being here."

Lee didn't respond, she rested her wrists on her knees and let her hands dangle in the gap between her legs.

Tab shifted, "Y' know I was lost pretty good. Met up with some of Easy that was dropped from another plane. Found Blythe standing out in a field, staring at the sky. Funny, not me or any of those guys, including Blithe, saw any action and he's as loony as they come."

Lee breathed out a laugh, smiled as she stared at a bug as it crawled up a blade of grass. "Some guys get all the luck, huh?"

"What happened to your face? Loose a fight?"

Lee did laugh at that, raised her eyes so she could look at Tab. "Yeah. Lost a fight with some damn tree."

"Land in a tree, did'ja?" He was laughing, too.

"I'd still be in that tree if it weren't for Guarnere and Malarkey. Cut me down like a bunch of grapes."

They both laughed, but the amusement soon tapered off and Lee was caught in the same web she'd been wrestling to get out of before Tab came around to pull her out of it.

Something in the usually joking Talbert softened. He saw a twinge of pain, confusion, or something else in the creases of her forehead or the downturn on her lips.

"Hey, if you wanna say something, just say it, Lee. Who can you tell if you can't tell the man you share your foxhole with?"

So there it was. Lee looked up at Tab and instantly felt torn. On one hand, she was thrilled and relieved that the man she practiced digging with was still planning on sharing a foxhole. She trusted him as a soldier, knew he'd take a bullet for her as fast as she would for him. But on the other hand, she'd always felt most comfortable with Tab. If she'd slip to anyone, if she'd get soft for anyone, if she'd let her guard down to anyone…she knew it was Floyd. She even called him "Floyd" to James. Lee knew her friendship with Tab was more than a foxhole friendship. But he'd never know, she'd never tell, and she'd probably be ruined because of it.

She told him what happened her first night. The tree, the train tracks, her first real battle, her first kill. "I could see the look in his eyes, Tab." Lee was saying, staring off as if she wasn't really talking at all. "He didn't even have time to put his gun to his shoulder when I shot him in the chest. I don't even remember the blood. I just remember this look in his eye. It almost looked like he was disappointed in me, or maybe just surprised. I didn't know I had it in me, so maybe this guy didn't know either." Lee paused, let her words sink in. Saying them out loud made them more real, more concrete. "Wonder if killing again will be easier."

Tab nodded, "No idea. But I'll let you know when I find out."

Lee looked up at him and noticed he was examining her closely. He was looking at her with the same somber expression people have when looking at the Grand Canyon for the first time. Floyd almost smiled. Something inside of Lee snapped. Frantic, she got to her feet and swung her pack onto her back in one, fast motion. She said goodbye and darted towards the fountain. Surrounded by the men of Easy, Lee felt it would be a lot easier to keep her guard up and remain James Lee. Something about Tab made her less careful and more honest. More Joan.

As she joined with the other guys, Joan glanced back at Tab, who was staring back at her, befuddled.

_He saw it. He saw _me_. Didn't he? Joan, you have to be more careful. You can't let this man break you down. I can't let him see me again. Stay strong and be brave!_


	4. Ready

Hey all! Here's the first battle scene. I struggled with this a little bit, but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Hope you agree. Unfortunately, no more significant clues, but I promise you that they are soon to come. Stay tuned for moments I'm sure all of you are anxiously awaiting.

I just want to continue to say thank you to all of you who read and review. Even if you don't review, thank you for reading. I love seeing everything you guys have to say.

Unfortunately, I have some (slightly) bad news. I'm returning to college this weekend. That means updates might be few and far between. Just keep in mind that I have been staying a few chapters ahead of what I have updated, so if I get a couple free hours, I'll do my best to upload another chapter or continue on my little project.

Please enjoy chapter four!! :)

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Chapter Four—Ready

Joan was convinced Talbert found her out on D-Day. She told Tab in their foxhole one night—after he knew her identity—that she felt certain he _saw _something she was desperately trying to hide.

He remembered asking her, "What are you hiding?"

"_Me_." She said as if that meant everything. When Tab stayed quiet, she explained, "I thought that my eyes would give it away, or my hands, or maybe my voice…"

Tab would have reassured her that her eyes, hands, and voice were unidentifiable as a woman's, but after he found out about Joan, all he saw was a woman. A beautiful, proud, guarded, strong, and brave woman with everything to lose.

The afternoon Floyd rejoined Easy Company he saw his best friend, Jimmy Lee, in a light he had never seen him before. He was scared, but boldly moving foreword. Lee was considering what he had done and what he would do. Without a doubt, Lee would do what was asked of him. Tab felt overcome with admiration, wishing he had the guts and the motivation that Lee did.

Tab hated the war. He would rather be home. He saw what happened to Blithe and didn't want to feel anything close to that. Later, Tab hated war because he saw his friends die and regretted not dying beside them. He had a difficult time accepting his own death as Spiers suggested every soldier do.

When Lee got up and ran off that day, Tab remained sitting alone. He thought about the German flag he carried and was showing off just moments earlier to his friends. _What a pointless thing to carry around._ He had thought. Lee didn't have a single item to show for what she had just lived through and then there was Tab who didn't shoot a single man and had a flag to—what?—prove he'd been there?

Talbert shook his head. His dirty hair swung slowly over his pen and paper. He hadn't showered in a couple days—he didn't know how many. Maybe he'd shower when he finished his letter to Winters. Or maybe when he could think of how to explain his grief over a man who was not a man.

Resolutely, Talbert pushed himself from his slumped position to sit upright.

D-Day plus one was Tab's first day of battle. He thought back to that day. First stuck in trenches, then under heavy fire. He remembered assisting Lipton after he was almost blown to bits by a German tank.

Lee was in second platoon with him, under Lipton, and entered Carentan immediately after Lipton. Tab had been closer to the squad's rear. After receiving orders to move out, Tab found Lee dropping everything except her M-1 and her ammunition. She was buckling her ammo belt when Tab jabbed her with his elbow, "'Ey Lee!"

She looked up at him, half smiled, and nodded, "Hey Tab."

"So, eh, you ready?" Tab let his M-1 sag to his side, hooked his left thumb in his jacket pocket.

"I'm always ready." A menacing smile took over a before-fearful expression. There was a twinkle in her eye that Tab couldn't place.

Lee ran to get to the front of the squad.

--

"Go! Go! Get out of there! Move!" Winters was running up and down the road, waving his arms, screaming, stomping his feet, kicking some scared soldiers in the helmet.

Lee was crouching low. A machinegun had the company pinned down in trenches on either side of the side of the road leading into Carentan. She could see the frantic faces of so many men taking cover beside the road. It seemed that no matter how loud Winters yelled or how hard he kicked his men, they would never move.

First platoon was pinned down. Luz had gone forward with another man from his squad and they were pressed against a building, concrete and brick shards spraying them. Lee could barely make them out over the slight hill that separated her from Carentan. She, too, was stuck in the trench, but since she was not supposed to move forward until first platoon secured an entrance into the town, Lee stayed put.

Lipton was shouting, too. "Move! Get these men moving!"

Winters grabbed a man and drug him out of the trench. Forced from a supposed safe place, the rest of the platoon started to move forward.

Bullets kicked up dirt to the right of Lee's position. One _clunked_ off of a rock that stuck out of the trench. Lee twitched and shrugged her face closer to her chest. Keeping her movements steady and her mind clear were two things that she was able to do. Under fire, Lee had a strong and steady head—it was reflection afterwards that gave her trouble.

As first platoon swarmed the entrance of Carentan, Lee put her hand on her helmet and tilted it up just enough so that she could see the earth around her. The road to the front was clear, except for a few lifeless bodies. Dark brown dirt made lines on the yellowish ground from where bullets had dug in and sprayed the area.

Shifty was crouched behind Lee, he uncovered his head after having been rained with some dirt. "I don't wanna die here in this fucking hole." He was saying.

Lee did not want to respond, but she felt a bitter stab in her chest. His fear should remain internal—they weren't even in the thick of battle and his weakness was already showing.

"Let's move out!" Lipton shouted as he stood partially. He kept himself low as he hurried forward, keeping to the trench as to have immediate cover in case of additional fire.

Lee followed behind him, staying low with her gun taut at her shoulder. After she heard Lipton squeeze off a few rounds into an occupied building, Lee aimed her rifle at a window that was broken and fired two rounds. She didn't know if someone was in that window, but the enemy machinegun was quiet. For now, Lee assumed.

Instead of sticking to the first couple buildings, Lipton took his platoon right down the middle of the street. He waved his arms, indicating for his three squads to take their assigned positions. Lee knew that this meant she would go to the left and secure the warehouse and whatever other establishments sat there. First platoon stuck to the walls of buildings at the entrance of the town, took out machine guns, snipers, and infantry.

Lee met up with Tab and Toye, ran to the second building on the left and pressed themselves against the brick. "Gotta take this." Toye said.

As he spoke, dust and shards from the brick wall began to spring out of the building like clouds of smoke. Tab raised his gun and fired several rounds in the direction of the rifle blasts. Lee took his retaliation as an opening to clear the room before they charged in. She smashed the window with the butt of her M-1, tore a grenade from her belt, bit off the tab and tossed it into the room. Lee shouted "Grenade!" and both Toye and Lee covered their heads and turned away from the blast. Tab kept his gun pressed to his shoulder, ceasing fire only when it was too difficult to see as a result of the dense smoke from the explosion.

Toye kicked open the door after the smoke cleared from the window—only a moment after the grenade went in. Lee hit Tab with the back of her hand, so that he knew they were moving inside. Tab fired his weapon a couple more times until a shrill _ping_ rang out and he reached into his ammo belt for another clip.

Toye sprayed the room for any enemy bodies; Lee followed closely behind him and then took the lead when the room was discovered to be empty. She charged towards the steps. Tab brought up the rear, watching behind them for enemy followers. Figuring there were none, they fanned out at the top of the stairs, checking the rooms.

Lee found the unlucky room. As she stepped into the room plaster and wood chips from the wall and doorframe flew towards her, cutting off her path and made her stagger back a step. She lifted her rifle defensively and boldly took a step towards the door. A German man had a rifle to his shoulder and was staring at her with shock, surprise, bewilderment. His uniform would have appeared new if it weren't for the mud and dirt stains and streaks. Lee thought he looked young, maybe 16 or so. He was shaking, quivering with fear. His young face looked shiny, even in the cloudy lighting.

A moment of hesitation too long and Lee finally snapped out of it. She squeezed the trigger and watched the boy stumble back a step before he slid to the group. His almost-new uniform was officially battle scared—there was a hole in the middle of the jacket and was now stained with young blood.

Lee thought this soldier looked like a neighbor she had back home—Henry Pattington. He would be 16 now, and had blond hair like this young soldier. Lee regretted shooting him. Maybe he would have surrendered. No, he wouldn't have. His face had been deeply creased with a terrified frown and his brows were pushed together so tightly that the indents of the wrinkles were still pressed into his forehead. It wasn't until his face was relaxed in death that she noticed the striking resemblance with her neighbor.

"Clear!" She heard Toye yell, then she heard heavy feet pounding on the wood floor.

This was followed by another declaration of "Clear!" from Tab.

Lee was quiet, but only for as long as it took for Toye and Tab to reach her room. "Clear," She said softly.

"Good shot 'ere, Lee!" Tab patted her arm. There was one more floor to check, but before they made it to the second flight of stairs, they heard feet racing around on the third floor.

The three positioned themselves at the end of the staircase. Lee stood in the doorway of the room she had just been in, using the doorframe for cover. Tab used the wall to the right of the staircase for cover and Toye used the left. Two German soldiers ran down the stairs, shouting something. Lee took the first shot. Her bullet found the first soldier's foot and made the man fall down the stairs—Toye finished him. Tab killed the second, as Lee fired into the staircase.

The building was clear at last, and they started down the stairs. Half way down, Tab stopped suddenly, forcing Toye and Lee to do the same. He held up his hand, as if to silence them both. Lee and Toye were quiet and all three listened as hollow _booms_ rang out.

"Is that—" Toye was cut off as another, closer _boom_ crashed through the next building. The walls and wooden steps shook and sent vibrations, like shivers, up their legs.

"Let's move!" Tab announced and he started to run down the stairs and through the main room. As he went, another explosion made the building quake, and Lee could have sworn that the building swayed. Plaster, dirt, and other particles rained down on them. Maybe the building would collapse with them inside. The bombs were landing closer, and it was only a matter of time that one tore through this building and ripped the three of them to hell. As the floor quaked beneath her, Lee lost balance and fell into a door. Her tender, bruised arm took the full impact of her weight—equipment and body weight. She cried out in pain, and gripped her arm.

"Shit! Lee!" Tab changed directions as quickly as he could. The sound of another bomb crashing into the ground outside drowned off his panicked call. He must have thought she was wounded because he knelt beside her, worry marking his handsome, slightly-dirty face. Lee looked into his blue eyes and then pressed her brows together determinedly. She refused to let the soft heart, beautiful eyes, and strong will of this man distract her.

Lee ground her teeth together and pushed herself up, the pain in her arm making it almost impossible to grip her M-1 effectively. "I fell, forget about it." She pushed passed him just as another bomb fell—this time farther away. The floor under their feet rumbled, but they made it outside without farther incident.

They heard Lipton shout as they exited the building, "Spread out! Get out of the street!"

The ground shook violently. A section of the street erupted into a black and gray fountain. Black rain fell slowly onto the heads of a few soldiers huddled together beside a tall, stone building. Toye darted to a building farther down the street for cover.

Lee couldn't move her feet—they were stuck to the stone beneath her. She stared at the chaos around her. Men were running for cover, some slammed into walls, hoping the building could be their strength; others covered their heads and hunkered down. A few men were lying motionless on the ground, serving as obstacles for those trying to find cover. Those in command were standing in the middle of the street, commanding others to get under cover.

The next bomb fell several yards to the right of Tab and Lee. The explosion tore a corner of a building off of its main structure and the shock rippled to the spot where she stood. The power of the blast blew Tab and Lee off of their feet and into the wall of the building they just exited. They tumbled into one another, Tab's full weight landing on her. He got his hands in front of him soon enough to prevent their heads from smacking into one another. Both of their helmets tumbled to the ground.

The sound crashed into her, leaving her confused and made all noise seem distant and hollow to her numb ears. She blinked slowly, thought she had gone deaf and then noticed the face of an angel looking down at her. Had she died? A thought flitted through her head: _Sorry Jimmy…_

Tab stared into Lee's eyes for just a moment, wondering if she was conscious. Lee blinked up at him, a smile coming to her lips involuntarily. The blast had so badly shaken her that she forgot who she was—who she was _supposed_ to be. She heard him say her name a couple times: Jimmy. As she stared at Tab for a moment, she realized he was not her brother coming to her rescue after falling out of a tree, chasing butterflies, for the fifth time that day.

She shook her head; her heart rate quickened, and she put a stern scowl on her face. Still panicked that Tab had figured out her terrible secret, She pressed her arms to his chest and pushed, rolling to one side to get out from under him, but his legs had Lee pinned to the ground. Fortunately, Tab scrambled to his feet as another distant explosion shook him from his stunned daze. He reached down, gripped both of Lee's arms and hoisted her upright.

They separated and both looked up to see Lipton directing men to different, safer locations in the town. A missile shot out from a hidden tank. It landed right in front of Lipton.

The cloud of dust and debris that lifted from the point of impact, made it impossible to see the condition of Lipton. Concern overwhelmed Lee and she ran straight across the street and towards Lipton. The same feeling of dread must have overcome Tab as well, because he was seconds behind her. They ran right through the cloud of smoke and the torn up street. Tab managed to get to Lipton first, Lee stood back.

Lipton was trying to push himself up against the wall. Delirious, he looked like he didn't recognize Tab at all. He looked at Lee briefly and then let his head sag to his chest. Tab had a green handkerchief in his hand as if it'd been there all along—Lee didn't even see him take it out of his pocket.

As Tab tired the handkerchief around a wound Lipton had on his arm while speaking calmly to him, in a tone Lee had not yet heard, "It's alright buddy,"

Lipton stared down at himself, both shocked and terrified at the blood that was soaking his pants between his legs. Lee saw this as well. She stood, just as stunned as Lipton—it amazed her that she wasn't shot at. Seeing your leader fall in battle was worse than watching your similarly ranked best friend fall, Lee thought.

Tab looking into Lipton's face, saw the devastation there, and then followed his eyes to the blood. Instantly, Tab understood the fear. Lee suspected he was not thinking about Lipton's beautiful wife and more so about the devastation of loosing his _own _manhood.

His fingers quivered uneasily as he ripped a hole in Lipton's pants and peaked in. A smile—if you could even call it that—came to Tab's face. "You're okay Lip," He declared, "Everything's right where it should be."

Relief washed over Lipton's face and he nodded his understanding.

Tab grabbed hold of Lipton's pack straps saying, "Come on," As he pulled him upright, "Upsie-daisy," He looked over his shoulder at Lee, who was standing rather dumbfounded, and asked for help.

The moment Lee heaved Lipton upright, an unbelievable pain crashed through her body and erupted in her head. She groaned as she got Lipton propped onto her shoulder. The pain seared into her right rib cage like hot coals and Lee had to grind her teeth together to keep from crying. It must have happened when she fell from that explosion, she told herself. _Be strong, be brave,_ she heard Jimmy's voice telling her.

Together, Tab and Lee helped Lipton to get out of Carentan and back to safety. Lipton had done more than enough for his men today and he deserved a short break and some time to heal.

The town was declared secure, what seemed like moments later. Lee knew it was more like twenty minutes, but she could barely focus on that. She had to get Lipton to safety and then Lee had to find a way to see the medic and avoid being discovered.


	5. Discovery

Hello to all those new and old readers hoping for an update! I just returned from London, England and thought "Hey! I haven't updated in a while!" So here it is at long last!

I'm happy to announce that this chapter is what all of you, I'm sure, have been waiting to happen! But I'm also sure that you will still be surprised and wanting more. Muahaha!

Once again, thanks to all of you that read and respond. Also, happy new years (a month late)! I hope it was a good one for all of you.

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Chapter Five—Discovery

Talbert closed his eyes as cold water poured down onto his soiled and slightly shaky body. He wanted the cold water to sober him enough to finish his letter. After a fourth—or maybe fifth?—glass of spiced rum, Talbert decided that he was not in a state of mind that let him write about his most precious of his belongings: his memories.

He did not know how to introduce this new information to Winters after so many years. Even after all this time, Talbert still couldn't break his promise. It seemed almost silly to him that he couldn't tell anyone that James Edward Lee was, in reality, Joan Eva Lee, a beautiful and sure woman with more bravery and heart than any man he had ever known. It meant next to nothing now and the information didn't put anyone in danger of death or disgrace.

Yet, it was all Floyd had left of Joan.

The smell of the soap he rubbed over his skin reminded him of Joan. When she was able to wash, she washed more thoroughly than any man in Easy—Talbert later realized she had a hard time tolerating the smell of her body sweaty, dirty, and bloody for days without a bath like many men could. He breathed in deeply, let the aroma seep into his lungs and fill his heart.

With his eyes closed, he could almost imagine Lee walking back from the showers at boot camp after all of the men were already in bed and creep quietly into her cot. She always smelt like soap with her buzzed brown hair glistening with water. Talbert couldn't help but look back and remember every detail. After Lee told him her secret, Talbert pulled out every memory he had of her and scanned it, desperate for some key, some sign, that she _was_ a woman.

The signs were everywhere. Right down to the smell of soap.

His memories always came back so vividly, as if it were just another gift from Joan.

Talbert smiled in spite of himself.

"Right in here, James." Eugene Roe ushered Lee into the tent that was set up as a makeshift aid station. The hospital was in town in an office building, but for small injuries, this was considered sufficient.

Lee had asked Gene for help after the announcement was made that Easy would be going to a town called Arnhem for an operation known as: Market Garden. Webster had noticed the pain in her side and told her to see the Doc before they left—no point in fighting injured and getting yourself killed. Lee was not sure she agreed.

Reluctantly, Lee agreed with Web and here she was, heart pounding, about to be found out.

How would Gene inspect her ribs without removing her shirt? He would find the gauze that hugged her breasts to her chest and her secret would be exposed. Lee told herself over and over that all he would have to do was touch. _He could feel the gauze,_ The thought tore through her frantic mind. Her heart began to pound.

Her eyes searched the tent—for what, she wasn't sure. The tent had a dim, brownish tint, the color of sunlight blocked out by tan mesh. It was big enough for two cots, a wooden chair, and a supply trunk full of basics—gauze, morphine, ointments, K-rations, coffee mix, lemonade mix, and maybe a few crackers. A flap of the same color as the rest of the tent separated the beds, but Lee assumed that provided little to no privacy.

"Why so tense?" Gene asked. He had a soft accent that made all of his words smooth, like butter.

Lee looked back at him, startled. She realized that her shoulders were tense, her fists were clenched, and her jaw was held tight. Consciously, she tried to force herself to relax, but the best she could do was drop her still-tense shoulders and croak, "I'm not." Just another lie to save face.

"Wha'ever you say," He tried to smile at her as he motioned to the empty bed closest to his chair. Gene waited for Lee to sit before he continued, "Now why ya here James?"

"Don't call me James." Lee said abruptly. He was always calling people by their full, first name. The only thing Lee hated more than hiding her true identity was being called "James" and slowly becoming more and more consumed with a self that was not her own.

"But that's your name." He objected gently.

"Yeah," He had a point, Lee knew, "but nobody calls me that. Just call me 'Lee.'"

Gene shrugged, "Why ya here?"

Lee lifted her right arm slightly and pointed to her ribs, "I think I fell wrong or something. My ribs hurt."

"Take your shirt off." Gene stood up, turned towards the trunk.

Alarm rattled through her ears. So soon she would have to confront her worst fear and greatest battle? "Excuse me?" She demanded unaware that her more refined, girlish, roots were sneaking past a rough and manly exterior.

Gene obviously did not expect her to be polite at the same time she was being difficult. "Take your shirt off," He shrugged one shoulder and then turned away. He clearly did not find the request difficult or alarming in any way.

She knew she had to think of something, some way to avoid the request. Frantic, she burst out, "Why don't you just poke around?"

Without turning around, he said slowly, "Well, I could, but then I wouldn't really be helping. I have to see if there's any discoloration. I can't do that with my hand."

_Damn it, Joan, think!_ She struggled with her thoughts. Lee had never been a quick thinker. That had always been Jimmy's department. He always knew how to get her out of scrapes like this. Joan longed to be like Jimmy, but she realized that if she were, she would not be having this problem in the first place.

A brutal and undeniable truth flooded her mind. If she were ever truly wounded, it would benefit her to have the trust of this medic. However, she couldn't bring herself to risk discovery for a slight possibly and a wisp of hope. Drowning in a raging river of desperation and hysteria, Lee began to perspire. It was becoming difficult to breathe.

Lee did the only thing she could think of. She removed her jacket, laid it on the table, and then lifted her slightly-dirty green t-shirt just above her belly button. That's as far as she dared. Any farther and her gauze would show, _Joan_ would show.

Gene turned around after having found some morphine—just in case. His eyes were drawn to her stomach and his brows lifted in something like amusement or annoyance. Lee wasn't sure which. Dark brown eyes glanced back to her face. "Uh, Lee?" Gene began as he slowly crossed his arms over his chest, "didn't you say it hurt closer to your chest?"

A nervous smile crept onto her lips, "Uh, yeah. I did."

Gene came closer, "Do I really need to get out my scissors?" His smooth, languid voice seemed clipped and bothered. Lee didn't respond. Instead, his words rattled around in the horrified storm that consumed her. He sighed, rolled his eyes, turned back around for scissors, and rummaged around in the trunk. The whole time, Lee frantically searched for a solution that wouldn't come and was hopelessly frozen, stunned at how quickly she had lost control and how fast her demise—her discovery—had came. It hadn't yet been a week and she had been found out? Disappointment was the next storm to rumble through the ruins of her and her brother's plan.

When Gene turned back around with scissors in his hand, Lee just gawked, thinking he had found those scissors too fast. She didn't have time to think clearly, to react in a way that could save her identity.

Gene approached her, scissors open enough to slide over her shirt and cut into the thin layer if cotton that separated Joanie from Corporal James Edward Lee.

She saw the green material split neatly in half, heard the soft _slice_ and her despondency gripped her and forced her to act. Lee flung herself at Gene, knocking the scissors from his hand and tackling him to the ground. On his face was a look of surprise and confusion. When they landed on the gassy floor, the cot had been shoved back a foot and the wheels had dug themselves into the ground. Lee was on top of Gene, holding him like she was taught to in basic training, with the forearm of her right arm pressed into the enemy's neck and her left hand pinning down his dominant right arm.

"What are you—" Gene was glaring at her, choking, couldn't find the word he was looking for.

Lee loosened her grip on him, took her forearm from his neck, "Desperate," she hissed the proper word to use in her case. She knew he was looking for the word "crazy" or "insane," but she would not offer those words as choices. "I can't have you…looking there." Joan was choking on her words, couldn't bring herself to say what needed to be said.

"You're crazy. You think these guy's haven't seen your chest before?" Lee bit her tongue, fought with herself internally. When she didn't respond right away, Gene tried to push her off of him, "Get off of me!" He demanded.

"No!" Lee pushed him back down with all of her strength, which only bothered her hurt ribs all the more. "No one's seen my chest," she whispered, "No one's seen me in anything less than what I have on now. And that's not going to change over some pain." His eyes were demanding a better explanation and Lee wrestled with possible things to say. Thousands of ideas erupted in her mind at once, but the first one out was, "Look, everyone has secrets, but I have more than just secrets to hide…"

Gene looked at her, confused and skeptical. She stared down at him earnestly. Lee knew Gene would find her out in moments, but she wasn't sure how he'd react and she wasn't sure she could handle the consequences. Would she kill herself to avoid the embarrassment? The shame? What would her brother say when she told him of her complete failure? If her father were alive, what would he say? She held back tears that she knew were long overdue—tears of hopelessness and fear that she constantly bit back because there was always something more important, like her country or her brother, getting in her way.

Slow, but sure, realization came into Eugene Roe's eyes. His mouth sagged open. His words seemed caught in the back of his throat. "You're—" He gagged on this escaped word.

Lee's lower lip began to quiver, she didn't know what to say or do. "Yes," was all she could manage, and it was barely audible. Her muscles were tight; fear gripped her and would not let her move. It hit her that this was it, the end of her charade, the end of her father's hope for her, the end of what she knew was right for her, the end of every desire she's ever had, the end of her reputation and honor. Hope slipped between her fingers and she could not stop it. "Please don't tell anyone. Keep my secret."

"You're a _girl_?" He whispered "girl" as if he didn't want the space outside of the two of them to hear.

She swallowed but her mouth was so dry that it was as useless as swallowing army bread without water. There was a trembling in her fingers as she took her arm from his neck and placed her hand uneasily on the grass. "Yes," Was all Lee could say.

His mouth was open, his eyes were searching her face and digging into her skin. He was probably seeing what everyone saw on a daily basis but never truly understood. She was a woman, and this was the first time he truly saw her. His bewilderment sunk a little deeper. Lee imagined that he was seeing all of the covert things she did to hide her true self. The showing in the middle of the night, the sudden moodiness and desperation once a month, the wearing of a shirt even in the middle of summer, the hiding of her letters and some personal effects, the clipped, defensive answers to her comrades. Something clicked inside his head.

"I can't do this alone. I need help." She pleaded, thinking now of how pathetic she must sound to this man who held her future and life in his hands.

Finally, after a great pause, he wet his tongue before speaking and cleared his throat. "Who are you?" He was whispering. Joan appreciated his subtly, even if he would ruin her later.

Although she was confused by his question, she answered anyway, "I'm Joan. Jimmy—ah, James' sister."

"Where's James?" He pushed himself up on his elbows and Joan moved off of him, but kept her body ready to attack once more.

"Our hometown. Washington. Pennsylvania."

"How'd you get here?" Gene seemed to be handling the news better than Lee had thought.

"Jimmy knew it was only a matter of time before he was drafted, but he wanted to be a doctor. He would have made a terrible soldier. So he signed up for the paratroopers, because that's what I would have done. He was inspected and just before he was sent to Toccoa, we switched." Joan, too, was whispering.

Gene leaned in, gathering her words like so many scattered puzzle pieces. He looked into her eyes, searching, and then a slow smile came over his lips. A smile Lee hadn't seen from him before. "You know," He said to her, still whispering, "Your eyes give you away." His eyes shifted down her arms to her trembling hands, "And your hands."

Lee didn't know what to do or say, so she rubbed some dirt that was on her palms over the backs of her hands, hoping that the gesture would cover up whatever part of her hand was womanly.

"Your secret is safe." Gene declared softly.

Lee looked at him, eyes wide, "Really? Why?"

"You're a good soldier and you were a good man, too, before you turned out to be a woman. Maybe you'll prove to be a good woman, huh?" The soft accent came back into his voice.

Gene got to his feet and held out a hand for Joan in order to help her up. "You can't do this outside." She said with a bit of her ruggedness coming back into her voice.

"Now that I know, you're voice gives it away too." He chuckled as she took his hand and he helped her up. She glared before she got to her feet. "I'll play along."

As Lee stretched her arm up, a sharp pain struck her in her ribs and she gasped from the hurt. She wrapped her right hand around her ribs and hunched down a little, straightening after the pain subsided. Gene was right there, guiding her to the open chair—seeing as how the cot had been overturned.

"Can you take your shirt off now?"

Lee shot him a hard look and he stared right back. Figuring she would not win this and knowing that she owed him a little bit of her trust if she expected him to assist her through this impossible journey. She pulled her arms out, followed by her head, from her shirt and then dropped the green, partially cut garment on the ground.

The gauze Lee had wrapped tightly around her breasts, flattening them, started under her arm pits and ended below her breast bone. Gene stared at her and swallowed. It was clear that he had never been this close to a woman—a field medic didn't have to be a doctor, he just had to have the stomach, but no amount of stomach would save Gene's innocent eyes from Joan.

"Ah," he tried to sound casual, "I was wondering how you would…um…cover that up." He shook his head, as if clearing the thoughts from his head and starting over fresh—this time as a medic and not a man. He came closer and pressed his fingers to her ribs and lifted the gauze up, glancing to Joan to make sure she wouldn't tackle him to the ground again. She didn't.

"Not broken, just severely bruised. Not much I can do about that." He put the gauze back over her skin and stepped back. "You can still fight, but it'll hurt."

"Just like that?" Lee's eyes narrowed.

"Yep, just like that. Can't do anything for you, James."

"I'm Joan."

He shushed her quietly, directed her to the flap of the tent. "With me, sure. But you're a soldier. You're James with the medic, Jimmy to your friends."

A quiet understand passed between them. Joan knew instantly that she could trust Gene with her life. She gawked at him, the realization of having someone she could talk to as Joan seemed unbelievable. She could come to him when she needed something special, could stop fearing that a wound would mean certain discovery and devastation.

She didn't know how to thank him properly, so she smiled softly, forgetting momentarily that she was supposed to be a man. He smiled at her like a man smiles at a woman. She knew there was nothing to fear from him. Then she pressed her face back under the façade and walked back to her tent as Jimmy Lee.


	6. Change

Forgive my prolonged absence, readers! I have been caught up in research for months and I began work on my first novel. It all takes up a great deal of time. But I have this completed chapter. I, unfortunately, have not kept up with my goal of always having a few extra chapters to hand off to you all. I have this one and I have a plan for chapter seven. Hang in there!

Anyway, thanks to all who continue to read even though it's been a while since I updated. It seems like I get new readers here and there and I appreciate your continued interest. I hope this chapter answers more questions and continues to impress.

I'd like to point out that one of my readers commented that Joan must be the older twin—I haven't forgotten you! Your question is answered in this chapter.

Please enjoy!

Chapter Six—Change

Talbert didn't remember exactly when things began to change with Lee. One day Jimmy was uptight, sneaky, and unsociable then the next day he was friendly and seemed to be more confident. Everyone figured it was a religious thing. Lee had always spent hours by himself, writing or reading or just starring off into space.

Webster had told everyone that it must have been Carentan and that fall, or maybe all of those explosions rocked something the right way in Lee's head. "The Doc must have fixed him," he had told his buddies when Lee wasn't around.

Talbert never felt comfortable taking someone's word and declaring it truth when the subject was his best friend. He remembered asking Lee before jumping outside of Arnhem, Holland, over the _whrr_ of the engines and the fear in some of the new recruits eyes.

He had nudged Lee roughly enough to get his attention—it wasn't until that moment that he'd realized that he and Lee were almost always beside one another. At the time he equated this with the fact that they were in the same squad, were foxhole mates and best friends, now Talbert suspected it was because he was drawn to Lee. To Joan.

Lee turned her face towards him, helmet hanging low enough to cast a shadow over eyes that Talbert would eventually grow to drown in.

"What is it?" She yelled over the noise of the plane, maybe a little irritated from being jostled out of her thoughts.

"You seemed happier after Carentan. Doc give ya good medicine?" He smiled, half teasing and half wanting to know truthfully.

Lee smiled back, shrugged her shoulders slowly under the weight of her equipment. "Nah, got a good letter from my sister, new insight." She played it off as if it was nothing, but her closest friends noticed. Talbert noticed.

"Sister must be good to you." Talbert had shouted.

"He's all I have." Lee shouted back, thoughtful. Talbert thought she had said "he," which confused him, but he didn't question, figuring he had head her wrong. He later realized that he had overlooked yet another clue to who Jimmy really was. Lee had slipped a lot around Talbert, possibly because she was comfortable with him, and he had missed them all.

Thinking about every clue he had missed, Talbert frowned against the warm water raining down on him in his shower.

_Sweet Joanie,_

_I miss you. I worry about you all of the time. I think about how you're doing, if you're well fed and can ever get to sleep. I'm not sure how I could ever take the news if I found out that you died. It would be my fault, you know. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night by images of you being blown to bits or dying a slow and lonely death. I know you keep telling me that dying would be better than discovery, but I'm not so sure. It should be me fighting for life over there. You should be writing me letters of encouragement. This is all backwards. I know what you're thinking. And you're right. I can't do what you do._

_Joan, have you ever thought that maybe we were born in the wrong bodies? You were supposed to be in my body and I was supposed to be in yours? I think about that a lot. Even when we were young, you were always the outgoing one. You always wanted to lead, to be the first to the top of the rock, the hardest thrower, the best catcher, the fastest runner. And me? Well, I never bonded with our father like you did. Which reminds me, I found this old picture of us three. Father, you, and me. I miss him. Almost as much as I miss you._

_You're all I have Joanie. And if I can't be there to keep you safe, I want someone else to do it. Please, promise me you'll tell someone. I trust you'd pick the right person. You always have been excellent at seeing a person's true character. But please, you can't hide this forever. It's better you have help rather than cross your fingers._

_I will write soon, dear sister. Stay strong and be brave until then._

_All my love, confidence, and hope,_

_Jimmy_

Joan read the letter for the fifth time since she received it the day before. This was the letter that inspired her to tell Gene. Sure, Web had convinced her to go for medical help concerning her sore ribs, but it wasn't until she read this letter that she was sure of what she had to do. It did not go as planned; she had panicked and tried to run away at the last minute. But desperate and feeling cornered made her move forward. Telling Gene was harder than running through a hail of bullets.

She stared into her fathers smiling eyes. This picture was taken when she and Jimmy were both 15. Joan and Jimmy looked so much like their father; there was no mistaking whose looks they had. By this time, their mother was long dead. She died in childbirth, leaving Jonathon Lee with two bouncing babies and no wife to help him. Joan vaguely remembered the old neighbor woman, Mrs. Thompson, taking care of them all day while their father worked.

Her eyes welled up with tears, which she didn't attempt to stifle because she was a safe distance from the company and propped up on a tree. She briefly considered the possibility that Gene would come looking for her, then returned her thoughts to her father. She remembered playing catch with her Father and brother, insisting on not being left out. They played baseball, football, and some other wrestling and running games. Joan enjoyed it more as she grew up, leaving her brother behind. She couldn't play sports at school, but always found a way to play afterwards. While Jimmy studied, read, and thought, Joanie was running, jumping, throwing, catching, and tackling her way into all of the after school pick-up games for boys.

A lot of times, she kept her curly hair short—to the shoulders—and never bothered to keep up with the latest fashions. That's what she looked like in this picture. Jimmy had curly, erratic hair, too, only his was cut short enough to be kept under control. He wore a button-up shirt, stood up straight, and grinned so wide that his eyes squinted shut. As if trying to outdo her younger brother, Joan had on an equally large grin—except she stood to the other side of her father. Joan wore a grass-stained sweater shirt and a skirt that she must have changed into after coming home. Both children were gripping their father, who had his arms around his precious—and very different—kids. Their father was smiling, too, except he was smiling from laughter.

The tears in Lee's eyes dripped down her cheeks. She was smiling through it. These were tears of happy sorrow. She loved her father and brother with every fiber of her being and still, one was taken from her and she had taken herself from the other. Lee didn't try to wipe the tears from her eyes because she knew they would just be replaced again. She resolutely took her helmet from beside her and tucked the picture of her brother and father into the padding. She put her helmet back and then used her dirty jacket to dry her cheeks. Lee was certain she had made herself slightly muddy by doing this, but figured it was better than being salty from tears.

She picked up a pad of paper and pencil.

_My Dearest Jimmy—_

_For the first night since I got here, I slept soundly. Sure, the sounds of explosions and screams filled my dreaming head, but I didn't wake up in terror. I've been complaining about that for a long time. At least, it seems that way to me._

_I took your advice. After landing on my back funny a few days ago, I went to the medic. He name is Eugene Roe. Or Gene or Doc. Most of the guys here call him Doc. I told him who I was and he agreed to help me and keep my secret. I wasn't expecting it to go so well. I thought I'd be sent home or worse. Gene said that he can tell I'm a woman now that he knows. He says my eyes and hands give it away. I hope I'm safe. Please keep thinking well of me, Jimmy. If I lost your good wishes I'm sure I'd lose everything._

_Thank you so much for the picture of father and you. I'm keeping it in my helmet. Maybe it will be a good luck charm. What do you think? Besides, maybe keeping it in my helmet will keep you closer to my thoughts. Do you think Father is watching over me? With him guiding me and watching me, maybe I will get out alive. With Gene's help, your letters, and this picture, something inside me changed. I feel hopeful. Invincible._

_Don't worry. I won't do anything crazy!_

_Yes, sometimes I do think we were born in the wrong bodies. But then I think that we are supposed to be this way. Maybe I'm supposed to be here and you there. Sometimes I believe this is where I'm meant to be. Fighting here and protecting my country. There must be some reason I'm so different than how I'm supposed to be. This is it._

_If I don't write for a while, please don't worry. We're being shipped out. I can't say where. But I will be at the front._

_I am as strong and brave as I can be. These words give me the strength and bravery I sometimes can't muster. I know it's because you are giving me this extra boost that I don't have in me. It's because of you, brother._

_Love you forever, think of you always,_

_Joanie_

She folded up her letter, slid it home, sealed the envelope, and jotted down the address and labeled it: J. E. Lee.

The shade of the tree was not keeping her as cool as she would have liked. She was sweating and felt sticky, grimy, and a little slimy. When Jimmy was very young, he would have called this feeling "gucky!" and Joanie would have called it "fun." Today, Joan did not think there was anything fun about this. She hadn't bathed in a very long time. In fact, she could barely remember her last shower or bath.

She lifted her hand and examined it idly. Her creamy complexion had darkened since she enlisted and her fingers were callused. She noticed as she brushed her matted hair from her forehead that her hair was growing out. It was curly as ever, but luckily the dirt and sweat kept the curls in tight spirals against her scull.

Sleepiness took over and her eyes closed slowly, she shifted her body downward and crossed her ankles. The shade might not keep her cool, but it made it just dark enough to take a catnap.

A couple of obnoxious voices and loud laughs rudely roused her from her comfortable rest. She looked to her right and saw a group of three approaching: Guarnere, Webster, and Talbert.

Guarnere walked right up beside her, kicked her foot off of the other one and grinned down at her, "I'm getting' pretty tired of you leavin' me with these fuckin' recruits."

Lee sat up, unbothered by Guarnere's action. She had grown used to his loud personality early on. "You're not with any fucking recruits," Lee pointed out as she looked between Web and Tab. Both of them nodded a hello.

"Yeah! 'Cause I got away from them! You can't replace a Toccoa man. What a joke."

"Wouldn't you want _someone_ next to you rather than _no one_?"

"I got you, Lee. Don't need nobody else. 'Specially not some fuckin' recruit."

Lee couldn't help but laugh at Guarnere's protective bull-dog nature.

Web stepped in suddenly, arms crossed, "Did you see the Doc?"

Lee grabbed her helmet and jacket and got to her feet as she answered a little irritated, "Yeah, I took your damned advice." As she straightened, she rubbed the spot on her ribs where her bruise was. "Still hurts like hell though." It was true, Gene had done absolutely nothing to help with the pain. There was nothing he could do. She had went through the worst fear of her life and for what? Nothing. _Great advise, Web._

"What happened?" Tab asked as he shrugged his shoulders. She hadn't told him about this, which stuck him as odd but didn't bother him.

"Fell out of a tree, went into battle, slept on a rock, and then had a Kraut bomb explode right next to me." Lee kept her comment simplistic and then looked at Tab closely. He was a handsome man and she wasn't sure how much longer she could deny that. She loved how his brown hair fell casually around his forehead and parted easily to one side of his head. His eyes weren't as dull as her own, they looked like pools of swirling fondue chocolate. And his smile was crocked and boyish—simple and always laughing.

Lee had to focus really hard on keeping a friendly but firm tone with him. It became harder for her after he fell on top of her after the explosion. Something foreign and delicious came out in her. She thought about his body weight on her and how his face looked suspended over hers. The concern on his face was both beautiful and alarming. She knew he was looking at _Jimmy_ with concern because his best friend might be hurt, but she wanted him to look at _Joan_ that way because he didn't want to hurt her during their first time together.

She became suddenly aware that she was looking at him in a new way and the thought both terrified and excited her.

"That tree did a number on you." Web added to the conversation with a small laugh.

"No shit!" Guarnere slapped Lee on the back and then wrapped an arm around her, teasingly. "If it weren't for me," he boasted, "Lee'd still be hanging in a tree!"

Lee pushed his arm off of her, rolled her eyes, "I would have gone down in Easy Company history for being the only guy that died a fucking ornament."

That made Tab laugh. "Better pull your weight when we dig our trenches." He nudged her.

Guarnere was looking at his watch and looked up at Lee and Tab as they joked, "Whenever you ladies are done playin' house, we should get on back."

Web glanced at his own watch and raised his brows when he saw the time, "No kidding! Guess my Sergeant can't be mad that I'm late though, right Guarnere?"

Guarnere looked at Web skeptically. "I'm allowed to be late. But you? Get your ass to camp." They both started back, discussing the operation.

Lee and Tab followed quietly. Tab because he was trying to think of what to bring and Lee because she couldn't stop thinking about how her feelings had changed.

"Why are you always leaving to be alone?" Tab asked her suddenly, looking to his right so that he could watch her answer.

Lee frowned and shrugged her shoulders slowly. Part of her wanted to answer truthfully and the other part hesitated. She decided on a compromise. "I like reading my sister's letter's alone. And being alone let's me think."

"Why not read them letters around us?"

"She's special. I don't want you animals asking about my sister."

Tab whistled and grinned wide, "That mean's she's a regular Betty Grable!"

Lee was getting uncomfortable with where this conversation was going. They were, in effect, talking about _her_. She wasn't sure how to respond to this. She felt jealous of _herself_.

"She's my twin. She looks like me." It was just about the most honest thing she'd told him so far. Lee was almost trying to get him to see who she truly was, but she also wanted to hide it still. _But,_ she reminded herself, _Tab will never look at me like a woman until he knows I _am_ a woman._

He looked at her closely, examining her face. A small smile came to his face and Lee felt hot all over. She wasn't sure if he was smiling because he saw a woman in her eyes or if he smiled because he saw "Jimmy's sister."

"What's your sister's name?"

That wasn't what Lee was expecting to hear. She didn't want to answer. Luckily, they got in the thick of camp where men were racing around, packing parachutes, collecting ammo and rations, buckling and packing backs, sharpening knives, and cleaning rifles.

Lee pretended she didn't hear him in the ruckus and ducked into her tent, "Ready to jump again, Tab?" She asked with her best brave, boyish smile.

"How are those ribs, James?" Gene looked up from his satchel. He was packing it full of bandages, morphine, ointments, an extra canteen and rations, a pair of scissors, and other items that Lee didn't see him place in the bag. There was a large red cross painted on the outside flap. Genes helmet had a matching red cross—it was sitting beside him, waiting.

"Hurts." Lee said flatly, awkwardly.

"Bet it does. Sorry I can't do more." He looked back at his satchel, but she knew he was sincere. He'd take away everyone's pains and bruises if he could.

Lee nodded slowly, shifted on her heavy boots, trying to find words.

Gene looked up at her again and sucked in a gulp of air. He couldn't see a woman under all of that gear. She stood like a man, one foot carrying all of her weight and the other placed off to the side, relaxed. Her boots made her feet look big and her pants gave her extra bulk and muscle, just like her jacket. There was absolutely no womanly figure under all of that gear. She stood tall under her backpack and parachute pack that surely weighed almost twice as much as Gene's equipment. Lee was carrying an M-1 rifle and it was propped on her shoulder casually, her helmet was under her arm, propping up her elbow comfortably.

A battle hardened man through and through. Gene was surprised at how well she covered her womanly physique. He couldn't believe this tough soldier was a woman. Everything about James was masculine. Gene even remembered Lee getting in a fight with an obnoxious local at a bar in England, while Easy was waiting for their orders to drop on D-Day. It took Lee two punches. The man came at her in some kind of drunken stupor, Lee thrust her right hand upwards at his face and broke the man's nose instantly. As he crumpled forward in pain, she punched him square in the stomach, which knocked the wind out of him to the point where he almost passed out from the shock.

While all of the men of Easy cheered for her and mocked the man that had been so unfortunate as to have messed with her, Lee frowned down at him and then snuck out of the bar. At the time, Gene didn't really notice that Lee was gone, but now that he knew the truth he realized that Lee snuck off to be alone a lot. She also did things differently, secretly, and kept quiet most of the time. He only saw her talk freely with one man, Floyd Talbert.

"What can I do for ya?" Gene prompted her, his sweet drawl made Lee felt more comfortable and she relaxed under the weight of her gear.

"I was just—I thought I'd drop by." She chewed her lip, a nervous habit both she and her brother shared. She ran her fingers through her curly brown hair. Little spirals fell exhaustedly on her forehead, some bounced around and others were broken into two separate curls that frizzed out.

Gene had never really paid much attention to her wild and curly hair. He imagined what her hair would look like if it were down to her shoulders or longer. It was a man's dream and a woman's nightmare. Tight spirals frizzing out and bouncing seductively. He imagined the color was nothing special but that the amazing curly mane was beautiful and fantastic all on its own.

Lee sighed heavily and then put a pleasant smile on her face. Her eyes were closed, as if she couldn't look at him as she spoke. "Thank you. This means a lot to me. I really need you and your help. I can't thank you enough. I've felt so much better. Thank you, thank you."

Gene raised his brows. He was stunned speechless because he knew that the smile, the relaxed posture, and the thankful words were coming from Joan. He liked Joan. She was different from any woman he had met or would meet. She lived in a man's war flawlessly and somehow kept a feminine and gentle composure under all of that paint, mud, and gear.

"I'm happy to help." He admitted softly. Somehow knowing she was a woman made him nervous and awkward around her even if she looked and acted like a man.

She opened her eyes and smiled sweetly at him. Gene was certain that she would be a beautiful woman. But just as quickly as she had let down her manly walls, she threw them up again. Her face hardened slightly and her smile grew a touch more stern. Gene didn't realize how _close_ to a woman she actually was, as if she constantly walked a tightrope between Joan and James.

Lee turned to leave the first aid tent and join her squad in front of their plane.

Gene followed her with a couple brisk steps and grabbed her arm. She turned around and looked at him with some confusion in her eyes—there was a flicker of terror, too.

"I have to ask—" Gene was bashful to ask, but he pressed on, "Do you have a picture of yourself?" She looked at him as if she didn't know what he was asking. "I mean, before you joined the paratroopers?"

Lee—no, Joan—blushed a little under her painted face. She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a little snapshot. Gene could tell from a distance that she was a beautiful woman. As he looked at it, he realized that she wasn't your typical beauty. She wasn't a movie star or delicate; Joan had a large smile and playful curls that looked as if she'd just run a mile. Her eyes were big and glowing; Joan looked happy and confident.

Gene knew right away he'd always see her as Joan from this moment on. He wondered if it'd be hard to call her "James" in the future.

He wasn't sure what to say to her; he couldn't tell her she was a uniquely beautiful woman when a soldier stood in front of him. He gulped and handed the picture back to her, "Thanks,"

She slid the picture back into her breast pocket. "Jimmy mailed it to me when I was in Toccoa. He told me not to forget who I really was. It's been close to my heart ever since."

"Your brother is good to you, Joan."

"I know." She nodded and smiled. He saw pain and yearning in her eyes. It occurred to him suddenly that Joan loved her brother so much that she refused to let her brother fight.

"That's why you took his place, isn't it?" He asked.

"Because he's good to me?"

"No, I meant you took his place because you love him."

"Yeah. I love him more than anything in the world. More than I love my own life. I'm the older one so it's my responsibility to protect him. And besides, he'd be a terrible soldier." She winked at him, slipped out of the tent, and jogged to her squad.

Gene was left standing in the aid station, mouth agape. _Now there's a woman I'll never meet again._


End file.
